


sing of the rage

by jill_ian



Series: also on tumblr [4]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:40:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22887193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jill_ian/pseuds/jill_ian
Summary: Billy had been in exactly two fights since December 13th.December 13th, that frigid, snowy Thursday Steve kissed him in the locker room after practice.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Series: also on tumblr [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1623685
Comments: 20
Kudos: 202





	sing of the rage

Billy had been in exactly two fights since December 13th. 

December 13th, that frigid, snowy Thursday Steve kissed him in the locker room after practice. Pushed him up against the shower wall. Kissed him until the water ran cold. Turned his whole world upside down. 

Since then, Billy had been trying harder to push down his anger. Control the feeling that bubbled white-hot in his chest. Ignore the ache that shook his fists. 

Still, he had a weak spot. A dim, dull space on his heel where the river Styx had missed his skin. Left him vulnerable. Blind.

The first slip had been at the Scorpions concert. Chicago. Steve had slipped on a patch of ice in the parking lot, sent him crashing into some surly fuck with an eyebrow piercing and a battered leather jacket. 

“Watch where you’re going, princess,” he spat, words a white cloud, hot, visible against the bleak January sky.

Billy’s fist hit his jaw before his brain could tell him not to. Hit his cheekbone with a crack that split his skin. Didn’t stop until Steve pulled him back, until he was out of breath and his fist was stained bright red. 

Steve kissed his bloody knuckles that night. Tasted like copper when Billy pressed him into the warm leather of the Camaro’s backseat. 

That was the first time.

The second was at the State Semifinals. February. Three minutes left. Up by two. 

Billy had never seen Steve play like this, hadn’t ever seen him shoot this well. Couldn’t remember the last time he missed the basket. Point after point after point. 

The problem was that he wasn’t the only one that noticed.

The kid guarding Steve apparently had, too. Took a cheap shot, a hard shove three full seconds after Steve had already passed the ball. The back of Steve’s head slammed against the gym floor when he hit the ground. 

Billy’s vision went red. 

He tackled the kid, pinned him to the floor, got in two good hits before Tommy grabbed him by the shoulders and dragged him away.

The referee threw Billy out of the game and two and a half minutes later, they lost, but Steve was okay.

Billy made sure of that. Climbed in through his window later that night and laid with Steve’s head in the crook of his neck until the sun came up. Counted all of his breaths. Lost track at six hundred and started all over again.

Late April pushing May, Billy’s record was clean, cleaner than it had been in years. Words stopped feeling so much like sandpaper scraping at his skin, dirty looks so much like challenges. 

Steve never had that problem. He was more likely to laugh, brush off an insult than engage in a fight.

Which is what made this afternoon so surprising. 

Billy heard them before he saw them. He was walking out the gym doors with every intention of going to his car when he heard a noise in the secluded little alley between buildings. Heard the telltale grunt that came with a landed punch and the dull thud of a body being pushed against the bricks. 

He expected to turn the corner and see two idiot freshmen smacking each other around for the hell of it.

He didn’t expect to see Steve pinned to the wall with Tommy’s hand balled in his shirt, the whole left side of Steve’s face covered with blood. Tommy didn’t look too great either, had a stream of thick red pouring from his nose, bent at an angle Billy knew meant it was broken.

Billy’s jacket fell from his hands as he approached them, landed in a soft puddle on the ground, just loud enough for Tommy to turn his head, let go of his grip in Steve’s shirt. He took off in the other direction before Billy could reach him, before he could go back at him like they all knew he wanted to.

Tommy disappeared around the corner and Billy was quick to turn his attention to Steve. The material of his shirt scratched loud at the brick behind his back as he slumped against it, closed his eyes, released a shaky breath he’d been holding for far too long. 

“Hey,” Billy took a hard step towards him, brought his hands up to hold the back of his neck, keep him steady, upright. “Hey, look at me. Are you alright?”

“M’fine.” Steve mumbled, didn’t open his eyes. He swallowed hard, struggled with it. “Where did he go?”

“Where did he go? What are you-“ he trailed off, raked his eyes down Steve’s face, the blood staining his cheek, the deep split in the middle of his lip. He flinched when Steve reached out to hold onto the front of his shirt, when the shake of his hands tickled at the strong muscle on his stomach. “Fuck, Steve. You’re trembling.”

“I’m gonna kill him,” Steve said, ignoring him. “Next time I see him, I’m gonna kill him. I-”

“Hey, hey, slow down,” Billy said, threaded the tips of his fingers in his long hairs at the nape of his neck, dropped his voice down low, tried for soothing. “Relax, okay?” He used his fingertips to rub slow circles into tense muscle, felt some sort of satisfaction, relief in the way Steve’s breaths started to come a little easier, a little smoother. “Tell me what happened.”

“He’s got a big mouth, that’s what happened,” Steve deadpanned. “He just-he started saying shit. Wanted to rile me up.” 

Billy curled a hand under his chin, ran the pad of his thumb along his cheek and stopped at the corner of his lips. “Why didn’t you walk away?” he asked. 

Steve hesitated and Billy watched the line of his jaw as it clenched. Watched the flutter of his eyelashes as he finally opened his eyes. Ringed red and framed with blood. Gorgeous as ever.

“Because it was about you,” he whispered, sent goose bumps up Billy’s spine. “The shit he was saying. It was about you.”

The river had missed a spot on Steve, too. 

Billy’s chest tightened with something he didn’t have a name for. Something warm. Made it too hard to look Steve in the eyes. He averted his own to save himself.

The cut above Steve’s eyebrow had stopped bleeding, crusted over dark burgundy. The one on his cheekbone was still going, barely, but it looked shallow enough, probably didn’t need any stitches.

Billy let his eyes dip low then, let his gaze fall to Steve’s lips, the split right down the middle of his lower one. His thumb moved slowly, trailed, ghosted across his lip until it hovered over the cut. Ran over it once, twice, felt the blood smear warm beneath the pad of his finger, knew it would leave a stain on his skin. Steve was plaint under his touch as he gave it a gentle pull, parting his lips just slightly. 

Steve’s breath hitched when Billy leaned forward and kissed him, hitched again when Billy ran his tongue along his lower lip like he was trying to heal the wound himself, soothe it, wipe it away. Steve hooked his fingers in his belt loops and tugged, didn’t stop tugging until Billy stepped forward, until Billy’s chest was flush with his. Only then did he feel Steve relax, felt him lean his weight back a little heavier against the wall, felt the tension melt from his shoulders like Billy really was healing, soothing.

Billy didn’t move away when they parted with a soft smack. 

His voice was rough when he spoke, low. 

“I don’t care what that asshole said about me,” he said, had to keep his head tilted sideways to see into Steve’s half lidded eyes, needed him to know he was serious. “I only care about you.”

Steve’s nose brushed against his when he shook his head. “But he-”

“I only care about you.”

Fuck the river. They could protect each other.

**Author's Note:**

> based on the dialogue prompt, "You're trembling."
> 
> catch me on tumblr @holdenduckfield


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